by Robin Mahle
There was nothing between Rio Dell and Bridgeville; not even a convenience store. If that was where they were going, it was only about half an hour or so away. The best Katie could recall, not many people lived there. Maybe some cabins dotting the green hills, a mom and pop grocery store, maybe a fast food place by now. She’d only been there once when she was thirteen. It was a perfect place to hide. Find an abandoned home on a couple of acres. It wouldn’t be that hard.
Katie saw the sign pointing toward the 36, but he continued going straight, down a single lane road. No one else was in sight. A sinking feeling started to settle in. She began to doubt her ability to come out of this alive. She would be gone and he would escape, once again. She couldn’t let that happen.
Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back on the seat. In her mind’s eye, Marshall was standing in front of her, his body inches from hers. She remembered his kiss, his firm arms wrapped around her as they embraced. In that moment, her mind jumped to a scene she couldn’t explain, but one which compelled her to act.
Katie launched forward, threw her still zip tied arms over his head, reared back, and began choking him. The car swerved on the country road. He slammed on the brakes, propelling her forward. Katie was halfway over the front seat now. He reached behind her head, his hands digging into the back of her neck, and pulled her over the rest of the way. She scrambled to get her legs out in front of her and began kicking him in the side. Her arms were stretching too far now and started to ache. He pushed her head back with one hand and tried to lift her arms up with the other. Her own strength caught her by surprise. Though he’d landed a few good blows, she’d managed to keep hold of him. The car was out of control and heading for the shoulder of the road.
A moment later, both of his feet pounded on the brake. They spun around; Katie flying wildly between the dash and the passenger seat, pulling his head along with her. When the car finally came to a stop, he pounced on top of her, the weight of his body knocking the wind from her lungs. He easily tossed her arms over his head and was now free of her.
He pummeled her face and then started choking her. “How does that feel, Katie?” He laughed.
She struggled for breath, quickly bringing her elbows in toward her sides, using her hands to loosen his grip on her neck. The taste of blood filled her mouth and the pressure behind her eyes made them feel as if they were about to explode. He was choking the life out of her, right here, right now.
But then he stopped, releasing his hands from the death grip around her throat. She inhaled a great deep breath to refill her lungs quickly before she passed out; a terrible gasping sound escaped. She instinctively leaned over onto her side and spit out copious amounts of blood from the severe beating her face took once again.
She could hear him laughing. Had she even left a mark on him?
“Are we done here?” He wiped the blood from his lip.
Apparently, she’d connected at least one hit. His bandages were bleeding through. She looked at his neck. She had done some damage, but it was far from enough to stop him.
“Get back there!” he shoved her back over the seat with ease.
The rest of the journey, she remained still and silent. He tossed one of his clean bandages at her and told her to clean off her face. Glancing back at her in the rear view mirror every minute or two ensured she wouldn’t make another stupid attempt. It had been stupid and almost had cost her life. And although she hadn’t hurt him to any great degree, she did accomplish what she’d set out to do.
Before her emboldened attack, she caught sight of her cell phone sitting in the center console in the front seat. The scene that flashed through her mind was of the attack. Once in the front seat, Katie had to figure a way to take the phone and she had. Kicking him with her legs she positioned herself in such a manner as to snatch it up while he was busy protecting himself. She’d slipped it into the pocket of her jeans, beneath the hospital gown. He had no idea she’d taken it.
So Katie remained quiet, waiting for her chance. A sign appeared ahead and soon came into focus. “Bridgeville 10 Miles.”
26
Bridgeville was one of those towns that if you blinked, you’d miss it. Hendrickson drove slowly down to the main street, then veered left, presumably in search of someplace to stay.
Katie feared what he would do to whoever happened to be occupying a place he found suitable. She needed him to leave her just long enough to call Marshall to tell him where she was. Had the FBI already been to the warehouse? If so, they would be searching for tire tracks in order to track down this car. Having worked with Marshall this long, she’d learned a lot about tracking evidence. But if she could just call him, this would all be over.
“This’ll do,” Hendrickson said.
The small A-frame home was old and tucked back away from the street and its neighbors. From the outside, it didn’t look as though anyone lived there. She prayed that was the case.
Hendrickson pulled up along the dirt driveway. It was barely nine a.m. and the sun still sat low enough in the sky to shine through the windows of the home. By the looks of it, no one had lived there for a long time. He leaned toward the passenger seat, opened the glove box, and pulled out a gun. Then, he opened her door and yanked Katie out of the back seat. She had no idea he had a gun. He must have gotten it from Wilson’s home yesterday.
She knew he hadn’t expected to survive this time. Was the gun for himself or for anyone who tried to rescue her?
They approached the front door. Hendrickson looked through the curtains of the front window that had been partially open; just enough to get a glimpse of the inside. He pounded on the rusted screen door. No answer.
He pulled her around the side of the house and toward the back. There were no fences or gates. No one out here needed such security. In fact, Katie suspected the front door wasn’t even locked, unless the owner happened to lose it to the bank. The bank might have locked it up tight.
The backyard was overgrown and weedy, with scraps of trash and old rotted wood lying around. A rusted trike was under the makeshift aluminum cover that passed as the patio roof. Katie wondered what could have happened to the family that lived there and thanked God they weren’t there now.
He dragged her back to the front of the house and tried the door. “No one’s here,” he said, opening it.
A stale odor floated out. This place had been empty for a while, it seemed. Some furnishings were still in place, old and torn. Hendrickson wouldn’t let her out of his sight while he searched for any signs that someone might show up. When they walked past the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Katie’s handiwork didn’t escape notice. He saw that blood had seeped through some of his new bandages after they’d struggled. His face looked just as hideous as it had when he had appeared at her hospital bed.
Any person who would go to such extremes to get what they wanted was beyond insane. He was obsessed; obsessed with her, even more so than she had been with him. The part that frightened her the most was that she wanted to kill him as much as he wanted to kill her.
With his fingers, he lightly pressed at his face. “Look at what you made me do to my face.” He pulled her close so she could see his reflection in the mirror. Her face hadn’t looked much better. The bleeding had stopped, but her left eye was black; the swelling worsened by the struggle. A gash that started just above her left eye, where the boot had made contact, extended down her temple and stopped at her cheekbone. She would never look the same again.
“We look like quite the pair, little Katie, both of us scarred by this. Maybe the only saving grace is that we won’t have to live with it for long.”
She shuddered, knowing that he had already resigned to his death and there was no doubt he was going to take her with him.
He led her back down the stairs and tossed her onto the worn, dilapidated couch. “You’ll be here for a while; might as well get comfortable.” Hendrickson walked into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. T
here was water, probably from a community well, but no electricity.
They had no food and only half a day’s worth of light left. Darkness would set in by about five-thirty. On this sparsely populated street, there were no lights, no restaurants with illuminated signs; nothing but black and the occasional porch light that might be left on to guide a loved one home.
She had to figure out a way to call Marshall. So far, Hendrickson hadn’t noticed the missing phone, but she knew it was only a matter of time. As soon as he went back out to the car to gather his things, he’d know it was gone. He would do one of two things: beat the hell out of her again or shoot her, neither of which seemed a desirable solution.
“Can I use the bathroom?” she asked, pain shooting through her jaw with each word she spoke. “I’d like to clean up my face and I have to pee.”
His distorted features looked even more gruesome as he approached her. “We were just upstairs. Are you trying to play games with me?”
She squeezed out a few tears on demand, although the stinging sensation they created brought about actual tears. “I just need to go to the bathroom, I swear.”
He towered over her, lifting her from the couch. “Don’t think for a second I’m going to let you go up there alone.”
She had to make that call; she was running out of time. “Can I close the door, please?” she asked as they stood in front of the bathroom.
“Just get in there.” He shoved her inside and slammed the door. “I’m listening and I’d better hear you pee.”
There was a small window above the tub, too small even for her petite frame. Not to mention, she was on the second floor and jumping from that height would cause injury enough to keep her from running. No, her focus was on calling Marshall. She only had to last a few hours before he would find her, if that. But how to make the call with Hendrickson listening?
Her hands were still bound and so removing her jeans took some effort. She did have to go, that much was true. She’d removed the phone from her pocket and turned it on. He must have switched it off when he took her, knowing they’d be tracking it.
The phone seemed to take forever to boot up. When it did, the battery showed fifteen percent. It was enough; that was all that mattered.
“I don’t hear anything,” he said.
She managed to sit and finally a stream started. A last second decision, she called 911 instead. Given the amount of time she had, it was probably the better course of action.
“Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?”
She cringed, wondering if he’d heard the voice on the other end of the phone. She was finished going and knew she couldn’t speak.
The 911 operator asked again, “What’s your emergency?”
She cupped her hand over the phone to quiet her words. “Bridgeville.”
“Ma’am?”
She disconnected the call, shoving the phone back into her pocket. She’d hoped that the operator would dispatch the police and, by turning on her phone, the FBI would pick up a trace. This was all she could do now: hope.
“I’m coming in there!” he shouted.
“I’m done and I’m coming out now.” Katie kept her head down as she walked out of the bathroom. To look him in the face might reveal what she had done. Casting her eyes downward would serve as reassurance that he was in the position of power. She had no question in her mind to the contrary.
Her heart pounded fiercely against her chest. At any moment, he could go out to the car and she feared that would be the end. Please, Marshall, please find me. It was by far the riskiest thing she’d done yet and he wasn’t likely to give her any more warnings. He was playing a game with the FBI, but knew that his time was running out. And, if she’d spoiled his plans, there was no point in keeping her alive.
Hendrickson forced her back onto the couch and remained towering in front of her, his large frame completely blocking her view. He began removing his bandages; peeling each one away from the burned, oozing flesh. The burns had been severe and covered nearly half of his face.
She kept her head down, not wanting her empty stomach to turn. At this point, it would not take much for the bile to rise.
“Look at me!” he shouted. “Look at what you did to me!” He bent down, his face within inches of hers. His eyes were brown and bulging out of their sockets, but pristine white flesh remained around them. They moved up and down her body, scanning every inch of her. Could he see the phone in her pocket beneath the hospital gown? He reached his hand out toward her, but rather than strike her again, he placed it on her breast.
What thin clothing she was wearing allowed for little modesty. The heat from his cupped hand easily penetrated the gown and camisole and she could feel the slightest movements in his fingers.
He began pushing and squeezing hard, but she refused to show pain. She knew he wanted nothing more than to watch her suffer and she did not give him that satisfaction. He pushed her chest, grunted, and finally released her.
He turned away in anger. When his back was toward her, she released the breath held firmly inside, wincing from the pain that now pulsated in her breast.
She heard the front door open and the screen door bounce against its frame as it closed. Oh God, he’ll know the phone is gone. Katie was starting to panic. Where are you, Marshall? Where the hell are the police? Her throat tightened as a lump rose high. She tried to swallow it back down, forcing herself to find calm.
The rusty screen door slammed shut once again. Hendrickson was back.
She could hear his heavy footsteps in the hall, approaching the living room where she sat helpless on the couch. He was getting closer and a single thought popped into her head. Throw the phone under the couch! Katie thrust her hand deep into the front pocket of her jeans and ripped the phone out. It was still on. She shoved it as far beneath the couch as possible.
As she reared back up, he was standing in the arched opening. If any sort of human being had ever existed inside this monster, he was long gone now. She recognized the look on his face. It was the same look she saw as she ran away from him; the twisted, murderous look.
“Where is it?” His monotone words chilled the room in an instant. Underneath his arm was the little wooden box. The hospital bag and his grocery bag hung on his right hand.
She wondered, for a moment, if he’d been asking about the phone or the pendant necklace, but she dared not answer.
The bags hit the floor and he opened his box of trinkets. “Where is the necklace, you stupid little bitch?”
Katie felt almost relieved, but that didn’t last long. “I don’t know. It must’ve fallen out in the car.”
He threw the box at her, its contents spilling out, clinking and tumbling toward her feet. She knew each piece had come from a victim and they all lay at her feet. There must have been nearly ten.
She stared at his collection, shocked by the number of them. She raised her head, her heart filled with a hatred that surpassed anything she’d felt before. “My God, how many children have you killed?”
Hendrickson laughed. “Recently? None. These are all from my younger days, mostly before we first met. Save for Samantha’s ring, which I selflessly returned to you. No. It was you that brought me back to life, little Katie. You were the one who rekindled the fire. But, oh, when I saw Samantha and I knew that she would help me get to you, well, I just couldn’t resist.
“The funny thing was that she knew right away who I was. Of course, you had broadcast my face all over creation, so, not really that funny, I guess. And as soon as I saw that look in her eyes, the fear that I caused—damned if it didn’t make me want to cum right then. I couldn’t hardly control myself.”
Katie felt the bile rise in her throat and fought hard not to let him see her disgust.
“That’s when I knew I was back. I felt like the old me again. And boy, did she give chase. But, she was wearing those high-heeled shoes and she just couldn’t get any speed. I caught up to her, pushed her to the ground, and I was so
damn excited that I just fucked her right then and there on the soft wet ground, covering her pretty mouth with my hand. She struggled for a while, till I jammed my knife into her side. That quieted her down.
“Then, when I was finished, I dragged her back to my car and threw her in. She didn’t have any fight left in her by that time, so the drive out to the rest stop off the 101 was pretty quiet. I took her around the back of the building. No one was around, of course, since it had been shut down. I called my brother after it was all over and told him where he could find her. I wanted to be sure that he knew I wasn’t fucking around anymore and that he’d better get on board or risk losing his own family.
“I did have a little more fun with her though, but it started to lose its thrill. You see, I do prefer the little ones; so much more delicate and they don’t fight back so much. My favorite part was watching the knife slide into her gut like butter. Over and over, her blood splashed up on my mouth and it tasted so sweet.”
Katie trembled; she couldn’t bear to hear any more. He started touching himself as he went on about killing her best friend. “Shut up!” she screamed.
He moved in closer, knelt down, and started sifting through the jewelry spread out on the floor. “So many wonderful memories. And to think, I put all that pleasure on hold for so long.”
“What did you do with the children?” Her voice cracked through the sobs.
He stood back up and smiled. “Well, that depended on where I was living at the time. When you and me got acquainted, I had been having a heck of time traveling up and down the north coast. Mostly, I just buried them in the woods. Of course, the girl in Portland I thought I’d have some fun with. I put her somewhere I thought they’d find her right away. It still took a year before some hiker saw her and I think that was only because of the rains that summer washing away the cover. I didn’t have a lot of time to bury her properly.
